“Naming is not the beginning of observation.
Naming is the reward for observation.”
— Chad
By this point in the fragrance project, I thought I had developed a reasonably consistent evaluation process.
Apply fragrance.
Take notes.
Observe the opening, the heart, the drydown.
Ask the two questions that have quietly become the framework for this project:
How do I want to experience today?
How do I want to be perceived today?
Apparently, I had overlooked one very important category.
Independent peer review.
As it turns out, my peer reviewers have very different areas of expertise.
It started with L’Eau des Immortels.
Within minutes, Bruno—100-pound American Bully and Chief of Security—became convinced that I had clearly been cavorting with an itinerant Renaissance resin merchant. He pinned me down (two enormous paws on my chest) and very, very seriously licked both of my arms.
Then he was off.
The house was searched.
The yard was searched.
Locate. The. Merchant.
Scientific conclusion:
Bruno experiences fragrance as Information.
He has exactly one question.
“Who is this?”
Then came Imperial Peacock.
Entirely different response.
Clementine, whose unofficial theme song is Built for Comfort, was happily snoring beside me.
She woke.
She sniffed my arm.
Then she moved a little closer.
A few minutes later . . .
A little closer still.
A few minutes later . . .
Just . . . a tiny bit closer . . .
Eventually, I was contemplating putting one foot over the side of the foldy bed because Clementine had quietly occupied 99.7% of the California King mattress.
She wasn’t investigating the fragrance.
She was marinating in it.
Scientific conclusion:
Clementine experiences fragrance as Environment.
Her question is entirely different.
“Would I like to spend the afternoon here?”
Then came today’s experiment.
Cherry Punk Extrait.
Before the first spray, Chad and I held a highly scientific pre-test discussion.
His prediction involved a leather jacket, a slouch, a motorcycle, light maroon spiked hair held together with egg whites and gel, a bright red cherry lollipop dangling dangerously next to a cigarette, and an eyebrow ring.
Mine—because our pre-test discussions have become spectacularly unreliable—countered with a portly grandmother in a gingham dress and slightly steamed half-glasses removing a cherry pie from the oven while calling us, “Dear.”
Neither of us won.
The first hour belonged almost entirely to cigarette smoke.
Not the elegant curl of pipe smoke from the corner of an English library.
A cigarette.
Right beside me.
Maybe 20 cigarettes.
The cherries, meanwhile, appeared to have missed the opening act entirely.
Eventually—and I do mean eventually—they arrived as the faintest whisper in the drydown.
By then, however, the admission price had already been paid.
That, unexpectedly, became another discovery.
Some fragrances ask you to wait.
They ask for your patience.
Cherry Punk eventually became . . .
. . . reasonably pleasant.
(In a “cherry Band-Aid in an ashtray” sort of way.)
But the journey mattered.
It felt rather like standing outside the venue with the smokers for an hour before finally being admitted into the lounge.
When I was younger?
Perhaps.
These days?
I’ll happily pay a little more, buy the ticket online, and avoid the smokers altogether.
The destination may be okay.
The admission price is simply too high.
On this one, as the fragrance was settling, Bruno wandered over and quietly began licking my arm from floor level.
Not the full tactical response reserved for suspicious resin merchants.
More of a gentle,
“Mother . . . I think you’ve gotten something unpleasant on yourself” decontamination.
Now, hours later, the fragrance is still present in a cherry/tonka bean sort of way.
The cigarette has mellowed into yesterday’s ashtray. With some violet petals in it.
The Band-Aid has faded almost entirely.
What’s left isn’t unpleasant.
It’s simply . . .
. . . . not enough to make me glad I stayed for the ending.
Sometimes a fragrance earns its drydown.
This one merely reached it . . . due to inertia.
Along the way, I’ve come to realize that the dogs aren’t merely reacting differently.
They were evaluating something different.
Bruno asks,
“Who is this?”
Clementine asks,
“Would I like to spend the afternoon here?”
As it turns out, neither reviewer has ever once asked about the note pyramid.
Neither question appears anywhere in Fragrantica.
(Perhaps it should.)
Field Notes
Cherry Punk Extrait (Room 1015, Jérôme Epinette, 2023)
Fragrantica Entry: A Leather fragrance for women and men. Top notes are Cherry, Saffron and Sichuan Pepper; middle notes are Violet, Mimosa and Jasmine; base notes are Black Leather, Tonka Bean and Patchouli.
Observed Progression: Leather accords (vinyl, adhesive, phenolic, Band-Aid-like) plus saffron (medicinal iodine, adhesive bandage). Faint appearance of cherry late in dry down; cherry/tonka and a tiny whiff of violet later. Someone is smoking next to me & I wish they wouldn’t, as I wait an hour to get into the venue, which winds up being fairly pleasant . . . but that WAIT . . .
Place: The Alley Behind the Punk Venue.
Independent Peer Review
L’Eau des Immortels
Reviewer: Bruno
🚨 “WHO HAS BEEN IN THIS HOUSE?”
Immediate security response.
Full property sweep.
Emergency arm decontamination.
Recommendation: Continue surveillance.
Imperial Peacock
Reviewer: Clementine
“I think we would both be more comfortable if I were just a little closer.”
(pause)
“This is nice.”
(pause)
“There. Perfect.”
(pause)
“A little nicer now.”
Gradual cuddle migration.
Complete marination.
Incremental comfort optimization.
Then . . . physics.
Researcher deploys foot as stabilizing kickstand.
Recommendation: Suitable for extended lounging.
Cherry Punk Extrait
Reviewer: Bruno
“Mother . . . I think we should wash this off.”
Cherry eventually appears with Tonka and Violet.
Much too late to alter the verdict.
Recommendation: Remediation advised.
In my testing environment, we don’t have Fragrantica’s table of reader comments.
It turns out my fragrance reviews are also subject to independent peer review . . .
. . .
The peer reviewers just happen to have four legs. And tails.
